


Aldri sove.

by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames)



Series: The Mouse Hunters [3]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 00:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17714471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/MermaidsandMermen
Summary: I just got the urge to dip back into this little universe this morning. Just a little drabble of fluff. Enjoy! x





	Aldri sove.

**Author's Note:**

> I just got the urge to dip back into this little universe this morning. Just a little drabble of fluff. Enjoy! x

3

It’s frightening how quickly he has changed out of being the happy almost confident flirty happy Isak who stepped out of my van a minute ago, into this quivering mess who is pressing his back against the stone wall outside his apartment. Almost like his whole body is rebelling against the fact that he is here, trying to push his back into the concrete wall like he is hoping it will swallow him up.

“Key?” I start. Because we kind of need it to get in, and he seems to be frozen in fear again, which makes my insides go all mushy.

“Baby.” I continue, and kind of wrap my body all over him. Pressing him into the wall and smothering his cheeks with kisses. Yeah, it’s probably not ideal, standing in the hallway outside his home where no doubt his nosy neighbours are all peeking out their spyholes and staring at us. But he is frightened and kind of freaked out, differently from yesterday when he was simply out of it. Now? He’s terrified.

“Can I just stay out here?” He whispers into my neck whilst one of his fingernails is making serious damage to the skin on my hip.

“Do you want to wait in the van?”

“No.”

Okay.

“Key?”

He fiddles in his pocket and produces a single key. Like a key. No keyring or chain or anything to hold it. Just a simple key, like this is just temporary. Like he doesn’t even live here.

And my heart squishes into a mess again, because it shouldn’t be like this. He needs to be happy. I’m going to make him happy. I haven’t got a clue how, but it’s starting here. Right now.

He was happy this morning, curled up on my sofa whilst we watched ski-jumping from some place in the Alps and I spoon-fed him scrambled egg and kissed him more than was probably necessary. He was happy when I dressed him in my threadbare hoodie and even happier when I ripped it off again and blew him to kingdom come. He was happy and now he is not.

“You are coming home with me again. I am just going to go in and check the trap and grab you some clothes and your toothbrush. Is there anything else you need?”

“Phone charger.” His voice wobbles. “And there are packets of meds in the cabinet in the bathroom. Just grab them.”

I nod. Meds. I know all about meds, I am on so many that I know the local pharmacist by name. He shouldn’t be on meds. He should be happy and carefree and healthy and. Mine. Says the guy who can’t function without being on antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds and a combo of sleeping tablets that would make any functioning human being turn into a zombie. Apart from me. Obviously.

He sinks down on his hunches and let’s his head fall into his hands whilst I am torn between scooping him up and bundling him back up into my van and driving him back home to my flat with imaginary sirens blaring from the roof, and rescuing a mouse that has perhaps sat in a tiny plastic trap for hours eating chemical bait.

“I’ll be right back. Just give me a few minutes to check things over and just shout if you need me?”

I’m a fool. But I’m his fool and I am even more of a fool as I trip over the threshold and fall head first into his hallway. Yeah. And it makes him giggle, and I feel like a king. I don’t care that I am an idiot and I don’t care that he is laughing at my silly arse self. He’s laughing and I am floating on stupid love clouds.

“You alright?” He questions softly as I stand up on my bruised knees.

“Yeah. I’m falling for you obviously. “ I counter whilst he rolls his eyes at me.

“You are such a dork.” He smiles and I don’t care. I love him I love him I fucking love this weirdo who is sitting on his arse in the hallway whilst I am trying to find the light switch.

“Left.” He giggles and I take a little bow as the hallway fills with light.

It’s different seing this flat now, knowing what I know. Like yesterday I didn’t really take it in, too caught up in being professional, and then, yeah, maybe not being so very professional. But it’s bleak and bare and pretty much empty apart from a few boxes and a sofa and I shuffle around in a circle trying to get my bearings, before heading to check the trap.

It’s empty and untouched. Which fills my heart with joy, because it means the little bugger is still on the loose and I get to take my Isak back home with no need to explain anything more than that he can’t live here. I mean, obviously. There is a MOUSE on the loose, and it could be dangerous. Or something.

I chuckle to myself and check under the sink. Nothing. Just the smell of bleach and cleaning products and the sink is gleamingly clean and the fridge is humming gently in the background. I need to get that fridge sorted, because Isak is obviously too busy and not in a good place. I can help. I even have the van to transport it even though I doubt I would be able to even get it through the front door. It’s not like I am built and full of muscles. I’m just a normal skinny dude with not much going for myself.

Apart from. Yeah. I smile again, chuckling in my solitude at the bubbles in my veins. I think I might have bagged myself a boyfriend. The most handsome, clever bright gorgeous boy in the world. Man. He’s a man, and he has a good responsible job and an education. My Dad will be proud. Mum will boast to everyone, _Even, Even’s partner is a Doctor you know_. I can almost hear the pride in her voice. Not that she needs to boast, she does anyway. She’s always telling me how proud she is of me, how good I am to her and my Dad, and how much she loves me, no matter what. I wonder what Isak’s parents are like. I wonder if he’s alone, or as loved as me. All these questions. All these thoughts that makes my insides warm again as I promise myself that I will tell him every day. I’m proud of him. I barely know him, but I am proud. He’s made something of himself and yes, he needs to learn to look after himself better, but then he doesn’t because he has me now.

Me. Who is now standing in his bedroom randomly grabbing the few clothes that are left in his otherwise bare wardrobe. Shaking them out furiously like I truly believe that a mouse would be hiding in there, when I am like 99.999 percent sure that the damn mouse is currently enjoying a nice run-around somewhere in this block of flat’s piping system. It’s probably found itself a nice little home in the garbage shute. Or a snug place to sleep somewhere in the wooden cavities behind the drying room in the basement. If I was a mouse I wouldn’t stay here. Well that's a lie, because if I was a mouse I would, because hello? Isak? I would be curled up in his shirt pocket hoping I could sleep next to his heart.

I shake out the shirt in my hand even more vigorously than probably needed, before grabbing a handful of briefs and some neatly folded socks. I haven’t even brought a bag, so I carry the bunched up clothes in my arms like some laundry baby, and head into the bathroom, opening the cabinet with my elbow dropping socks along the way.

And whoa.

Baby.

I almost want to cry.

Row after row of boxes. I sigh with relief recognising the brand names and the long-winded Latin ingredients. Standard antidepressants. Weak-ass sleeping pills to help you fall asleep. The ones to help you stay asleep. Paracetamol. Headache tablets. Migraine pills. Even stronger Migraine pills. Migraine pills that would put a bull to sleep. I shudder at the thought. He shouldn’t have all this stuff. He shouldn’t need it. He should be happy.

It’s obvious he struggles, and for once in my life I am grateful that I am me. That I have been through the shit I have been through, because I kind of know this stuff. The uppers and downers. The insomnia and the comatose state of being overtired. The headaches and the body aches and the desperation when your body just won’t function. I know this, and I know how he feels. And I take all the boxes off the shelf, stuffing them into the pockets of my jacket, before scooping up the clothes I have dropped on the floor and remembering the phone charger when I almost trip over it in the hallway, whilst balancing his toothbrush between my teeth.

He’s still there, on the floor. Looking a little bit lost. So very much lost.

“Got it all, I think.” I mumble, mouth full of plastic.

“Mouse?” He questions, looking distraught.

I shake my head and the fear in his eyes makes me angry. Things shouldn’t be like this. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t belong here.

“Come.” I say, probably sterner than I meant. “I’m taking you home and making you a hot chocolate and then we are snuggling up on the sofa.”

I tug at his sleeve, dropping his clothes as I move around trying to stuff the toothbrush into my pocket, spilling packets of his meds onto the stone floor with a smattering of cardboard.

“I’m not a total flake.” He whispers. “I just struggle sometimes, being on my own and not quite coping. It’s not like I am a lunatic.”

“Isak.” I say, and my heart breaks. I lean in and kiss his lips, softly tracing his skin with my own. He’s shivering in the cold hallway, and If I wasn’t sure before, I am sure now. This boy, this man, is mine and I will protect and love and care for him until the day I die.

I tell him that as well and he laughs softly.

“Isak.” I say, and I don’t even stop to question what I am about to tell him. “I am bipolar. I was diagnosed at 14 and have had some serious episodes. I have been hospitalized more times than I can remember. I have been arrested. I flunked out of Uni because I couldn’t cope. I have been so scared that I thought I was going to die. I have also been insanely happy and my parents have loved me through every up and down. I am sometimes unwell, and I am mostly really fine. I do OK. I can hold down a job and I can look after myself. That doesn’t mean that I can’t love you. That I won’t be good for you. That I don’t believe that this, this with you will be amazing, if you let me try. “

Now I am hyperventilating. I have never explained it like that before. Like it’s a normal thing that I kind of live with rather than being a disability that makes me feel like I am less than everyone else. Helpless in a way.

“Breathe.” He says. Like he is back in Doctor mode. His face etched with worries and his hands around my face. His clothes pooled on the floor by our feet, since my arms are thrown around his far too skinny body and my chest is heaving against his.

“I want this to be real.” I pant out and my eyes are watering. “I don’t want it to be some crazy idea that just fizzes out and you go back to work on Tuesday and leave me a mess of emotions and then you never call and I will be sitting in the van outside here hoping that you will come out so I can at least see you. I mean, that would be stalking, but if this goes to shit, I don’t want it to go to shit. I don’t want you to live here and be all unhappy and sad and struggling to cope. I want you to be with me, so I can hold you when you can’t sleep and look after you when you can. I can’t take away the sadness, but I can talk you through it. I can feed you breakfast when you can’t get out of bed, and make you a cup of tea when you feel like crying. And I can love you. I can love you until you realize that you deserve it. That you are happy. And then I will still love you. Just a little more.”

Hey. That’s me getting all over emotional but he kisses me again. Hard. Almost like he doesn’t want to let go of my lips.

“Sometimes we just need someone to take our hand and hold on.” He says, then goes quiet. Like he is thinking about what he just said.

Whilst I don’t miss a beat. I grab his hand in mine. Tangle my fingers in his.

“This is me taking  your hand. And I am not letting go.”

“Can I come back with you? Stay tonight?” He whispers and if I didn’t love him enough already, I am so stupidly in love with him now.

“ I have all your clothes here on the floor. I can wash them. Sorry.” I ramble. “But you are coming with me, I already told you. We are going home and having hot chocolate and snuggling up and then I will make you some lunch and we are just going to rest. Chill out. Get to know eachother.

“Will there be more blowjobs involved?” He hiccups out, and I hadn’t noticed it before. The tears in the corners of his eyes. The way his face is a little bit snotty. The way his cheeks are a little bit flushed. The cheeky grin on his face.

“Absolutley. It’s 1-1 at the moment so you owe me the next one. And I might give you one back, have you ever tried 69-ing? I haven’t so we could do that if you want to. Then I can jerk you off in the shower after if that’s your thing, and if you want more we might have to stop at the pharmacy for supplies. I don’t mind.”

I wink. He smiles.

“Shall we go?” He says not even looking back as I kick his front door shut.

“Let’s get you home.” I whisper and steal another kiss.


End file.
